Just under two weeks away from my due date, and tonight I’m feeling agitated. Mosquitoes suddenly showed up in droves inside the yurt, and my hands are beginning to hurt from slapping them together with the force of an insect death trap. We’ve got the fan on high to keep them at bay, and after over an hour of constant slapping, it seems almost safe to say we are back to a normal number. It’s also safe to say I am overly frustrated in general today. It happens like that, some days I wake up and know my emotions are running high and I’ll cry at least twice, while other days I wake up and any little thing has the ability to elicit an immediate frustration response. Mostly these days are separated by a few weeks, and all the other days in between are good, great, wonderful. But for now, let me get a few things out of my system…
I am seriously considering boycotting the farmers market until after my baby is born. Edge and I drop off CSA shares there each weekend, and it is amazing the amount of people who immediately touch my belly without permission. I’d say about 2% of people even ask, and the rest just go right in and rub directly over my belly button, which is the most sensitive part of my belly and hurts when it’s rubbed. Last weekend I finally realized I could get my hands over my belly before an acquaintance could get theirs on it, thereby giving me some protection. The acquaintances are the hardest to deal with–I’ve had a hard time finding a way to tell people not to touch me, and at least with close friends and family I can just flat out say it without worrying about sounding polite. To be honest, most of the time I don’t mind if people I love touch my belly, but how does being pregnant give others automatic permission to rub an intimate spot on a person’s body? A pat on the shoulder is fine, a hug is welcome, but would you go up to anyone else and start touching their stomach? If I get up enough courage, the next time someone who hardly knows me touches my belly, I’m going to take that as permission to touch theirs right back and give them a good rub while remarking on how their belly looks.
Woo. That felt good. Thanks for listening. I guess when it comes down to it, that really is my sole grievance. It has been difficult at times to look out at the garden and see so many things I want to help with, but know that physically I am not able to do them right now–no broadforking, raking, making beds, making compost piles…even pulling old successions and getting beds ready for new ones is exhausting and uncomfortable, but I have enjoyed slowing down. It’s been at least five years since I was able to soak in the heat of summer without working out in the field tending to crops or moving animals (okay, I am tending crops and moving animals still, but on a much more relaxed level–Edge has been taking care of the daily chores on his own since June). I’m taking naps, going swimming, writing in my journal a lot, and learning the movements of the stars at night, which is one blessing of waking up so much to pee. I’m in the final stretch, and sometimes it feels like it could be any day, though it could still be a few weeks. The mystery of it all is one thing that will never go away, and that is okay with me. It makes slowing down, breathing and noticing the stars that much more enticing, as if I will get a little closer to the answers even as I delve deeper into the questions.
So the rant is over, and I feel calmer. Three more mosquitoes down in the last minute, and I think it’s time for sleep.
Inside, my baby is nestled, getting ready to tell me when it’s time.